Six Years Later
by samsquaredd
Summary: Arthur is tired of thinking about his past. He's going out drinking tonight, and he is getting shagged, and he just doesn't care anymore! (USUK; slight ameripan, but it doesn't go anywhere)
Alright, that's it!

Arthur was going out tonight!

It took a lot of prodding on Gilbert and Francis' parts and a lot of guilting on Michelle's part, but what really got him to go, what actually set him to it, was Kiku Honda walking into work with a hickey.

Honda was always a reserved man. He never spoke out of turn, took caution not to offend, kept to himself and to his traditional values. He was the last person anyone would expect to walk into the office sporting the red letter. Anyone except Arthur.

Arthur didn't ask who it was from because he was afraid he didn't want to know. The lips that left such an excellently placed mark in passionate embrace were all too familiar to him. Just because Kiku and the lover that Arthur suspected bit him were exes did not mean anything. If Arthur's suspicions were ever right, which they usually were do to an intense amount of Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram stalking, they were right about Alfred F. Jones.

Arthur swallowed as Kiku caught him staring at his neck from his desk. Blushing, Kiku pulled his scarf up tightly in shame and walked faster.

Excel documents blurred under Arthur's bored touch and dreaming gaze.

Alfred.

It had been almost six years since Arthur last talked to Alfred. What was it Alfred had said as they threw those graduation hats into the air? It had been lost to time and noise. In memory, the picture was perfect. Alfred standing next to Arthur, beaming that beautiful white smile at Arthur, umbrellaing Arthur's body in all of his tallness.

Alfred and Arthur never got the chance to be good friends in high school: Arthur was driven and book-smart. He cared about grades and grants, not guns and girls like Alfred. Arthur meant guns in both senses of the word- Alfred hardly did anything but work out his already naturally muscular physique playing football and basketball. He had terrific aim and a perfect arm- so sought after, there was no way he wouldn't get into a great school on an athletics scholarship.

Arthur scoffed. Alfred sure had scored big in the genetic lottery. He wasn't even dumb. In fact, Arthur remembered his crush on Alfred forming from their middle school math class. Alfred was absolutely gifted at math and Arthur was, well, just awful. He couldn't remember simple mathematical rules and to this day has trouble with his times tables. Alfred's hand guiding his through equations, Arthur asking him all kinds of questions that had nothing to do with math and everything to do with Alfred, Alfred complimenting his doodles and little poetic blurbs on the margins of his notebook papers, the teasing and laughing… why did that never continue into their high school years?

They smiled at each other and waved sometimes. At the homecoming game, Arthur could half-swear Alfred had winked at him from the field. At prom, Alfred complimented Arthur's suit and Arthur complimented his date half-earnestly. Alfred continued to get high marks in math, but low marks in English like usual, and Arthur wondered why Alfred wouldn't ask him for help. It became obvious, at least to Arthur's self-deprecating psyche, that Alfred batting his lashes at different girls was why. He flexed his arms and they did his homework, big surprise. Arthur always found himself huffing and scoffing, claiming to detest and despise Alfred, but in the end the one who longed for Alfred's approval, Alfred's laughter, Alfred's attention…

They had only held each other once. Kissed once.

Arthur turned his attention to the sleet cascading down the office window.

Yes, it was on a day just like this. That awful snow-rain slosh had been pummeling the two as soon as they got off the bus. It was the last day of school before winter break in eighth grade. They lived on opposite sides of the bus stop, at least three streets away back then, but Alfred always walked Arthur home before going to his own house. Even on a day like this, especially lingering when they were going to be apart for some time. Like he couldn't bear it.

Arthur sunk into his office chair, heart heavy with nostalgic regret.

They ran laughing and screaming like idiots to Arthur's front door, Alfred's jacket the only thing keeping them from the freezing rain. Once under the sweet reprieve of Arthur's porch awning for a few minutes, Alfred started to say his farewell but Arthur couldn't see him go. Was it that they would be apart for weeks and Arthur had grown far too close to Alfred to take it? Was it that Alfred was obviously shivering from how cold he was, getting sleeted on in lieu of letting Arthur become cold or wet like himself? Was it that Arthur somehow knew this was the moment he could change things between them, whether for better or for worse? Did he have to take the chance no matter the outcome?

Could Arthur really be true to his feelings?

Something about that Arthur was freer than the Arthur that he had become. That Arthur loved far more easily. That Arthur said something that Arthur now would be mortified to admit.

Perhaps that is where he had failed.

"Alfred you can't leave, you're soaking wet."

Alfred chuckled, "Artie, I gotta go home or else my mom is gonna be really pissed-" Alfred sneezed.

Arthur grabbed Alfred's arm, eliciting a look of surprise from Alfred. Simply shaking his head, Arthur pulled at Alfred, too weak to move him through force but just desperate enough to move his heart. "You can't, I can't… watch you go, Alfred, please…" softly, "Stay…"

Arthur cannot remember being looked at so lovingly. The blue of Alfred's eyes sparkled under his lashes and his smile was curved so softly, painted perfectly. He reddened just enough to match his frostbitten lips. The emotion in his face was so clear and evident, that even people as foolish and oblivious as the two of them could understand. It could only be love.

They created their own warmth, hand sliding in hand. Arthur never breaking gaze with Alfred for fear that he would try to forget what he had just felt, what he had just seen- grasping onto it desperately. Who knew this moment would create a lifelong craving…

Barely inside, the door closed slowly. They stood in the foyer. Hands still tangled together, Arthur moved towards Alfred. He was so cold…

Alfred bent his head, brushing Arthur with his nose, beckoning him to look. Arthur did.

The giddiness of love mixed with the serious fire of lust. He was consuming Arthur. Their noses brushed against each other. Arthur's arms looped easily around Alfred's neck. Cold lips touched each other gently, once, barely, breathing ceased. Eyes closed, they leaned further into each other. It was natural and perfect.

To this day it is still the best kiss of Arthur's life.

Arthur sighed. Alfred had only become more handsome since then and had taken on a string of interesting lovers that had surely given him better kisses than some eighth grader's first. Alfred probably doesn't even remember it. He probably only remembers it as the day that Arthur started to become even weirder.

Arthur was certainly weird around Alfred afterwards. He had almost a month to think about it, get worked up over it, worry if he should text Alfred, worry harder if Alfred now would ignore him because he was probably gay, oh lord he hadn't even thought about those repercussions. If Alfred was ever going to have a nice girlfriend, he couldn't have Arthur convincing people he was gay by tagging along with him any more…

It was certainly going to be different now.

Alfred said hi to Arthur and Arthur found he couldn't reply anymore. His heart just lurched into his throat and he looked at Alfred as if he were an alien. What was alien, Arthur only realised in maturity, were his feelings about Alfred not Alfred himself, but at the time Arthur was more confused than ever about Alfred and about himself. But he was always far too prideful to admit that he was confused about anything, or that he could be wrong, or even, perhaps the worst thing, that he'd fallen in love.

The distance only grew from there until they had almost stopped talking completely.

Until they had stopped talking completely.

Arthur hadn't even seen Alfred in person since high school. How could he long for a person for so long?

Every girlfriend or boyfriend on his social media accounts was completely different from Arthur. Alfred always looked moderately happy, and Arthur was pleased to see him happy. There was nothing more he wanted for Alfred.

And yet.

And yet, there was sadness behind Alfred's eyes. The looks he gave his partners were never close to the look of devotion and feeling he gave Arthur. Where was the fire of passion flickering in his eyes? Where was that giddy, soft smile only love could draw from a person?

"Why do this if… If I would always go willingly?" Arthur asked himself embarrassed at his own brazenness. If Alfred only needed a flint or a spark, Arthur would be it.

This is what he told himself, but when push came to shove and Arthur did see Alfred in school, he could never bring himself to reconcile with him. Alfred was a football player, a star. In Arthur's eyes, he surpassed Arthur's dating league long ago. He shouldn't even associate with him. And yet…

He caught Alfred giving him that look every once in awhile. Sometimes Alfred blushed. Sometimes he just stared. But Arthur knew Alfred. He knew Alfred's face. God had blessed Alfred with beautiful expressive eyes and a perfect smile. Alfred was so easy to read. Always so easy to read.

Arthur only wished Alfred could read him as well. Did all of those days together amount to nothing? Did Alfred learn nothing about when he was happy or sad or when he wanted to go further? Could he not gather even the most obvious truth that Arthur was in love with him? How oblivious was he!? Honestly!

Or was he just shy and afraid of Arthur's response?

Ha. Alfred. Shy. Wasn't that rich?

Alfred was anything but that. Cocky? Check! Arrogant? Ha! Assertive? Naturally! Always quick to tell you what he wanted and what he thought? Of course! Alfred always had a 'well, if I want it, I don't see why I can't get it or do it' attitude. If he wanted Arthur, it was reasonable to assume he would have approached being with him the same way.

He had approached the others this way. Including Kiku.

It was Valentine's Day, two years ago, when the office found out Alfred was dating Kiku, including Kiku.

Kiku walked into work, put his coat on the rack and walked down to his office only to be met with an over the top sort of display of affection only Alfred was capable of producing. Of course, flowers and candy, but also an assortment of PC dating sims and little transformers and dolls only Kiku would have any interest in. There were all kinds of little snacks from his home country, a little charm, all sorts of cute and little things because Alfred knew how much Kiku liked tiny and cute- of course everyone in the office mewled about it, wishing they could have such a thoughtful and charming boyfriend. Plus he's rich and sexy? How could Kiku ever even consider breaking up with him?

Arthur scoffed. Alfred was a perfect boyfriend, huh? Perfect on paper.

Perfect at holding doors open, perfect at kissing, perfect at taking timely photos- perfect at spending time with his boyfriend and paying for things. Perfect at treating this boyfriend like just a little more than a friend. Perfect at not committing. Perfect at not loving this boyfriend. Just like he hadn't loved any boyfriend or girlfriend before.

Kiku told Arthur not to get him wrong in these confessions. He felt that Alfred did love him and care for him.

"But not in the intense way that a lover should," he admitted. Arthur bit his lip.

"You can read Alfred so easily, though he can't read a thing," Kiku indulged further, "And I can tell that even though he loves me, he is not in love with me." He sighed.

"We could get married, sure, and be moderately happy, but what is the use? Why only be moderately happy when someone like Alfred can feel much more than that? And deserves more than that?"

"Maybe, in some strange small way, he feels like he deserves to not be as happy as he could be," Arthur blurted out. What was he saying? Why would Alfred ever feel that way?

"Maybe he had it once and lost it so he doesn't feel like he deserves to love like that again," Arthur kept talking, "or if he does love that deeply again, that he will just mess it all up."

Alfred having that level of self-doubt? Arthur wanted to laugh at the notion, but he wondered if maybe he had found the answer.

Arthur found himself lying on the ground after Kiku left his apartment thinking about Alfred. Shivering though it was summertime, drinking milk tea, and thinking about Alfred.

Well, not tonight.

Arthur returned from his bout with memory. His desk and computer returned to his line of sight, the plant on his desk, the picture of his brothers. Did Alfred even know about his youngest brother?

Never mind that! Alfred was a relic of his past. Alfred surely didn't remember Arthur! Not a single day did Alfred ever spend thinking of Arthur or what he was doing or who he was with. Alfred would never obsess about Arthur in the manner which Arthur constantly thought about him. Alfred was far too lovely for that. He was a professional athlete now. He had many lovers. He went to many parties. He probably hardly spent a night alone.

Forget about Alfred. Tonight was going to be all about Arthur. He himself hadn't dated in over three years, easily. His last few relationships were utter failures as no one really understood Arthur's little personality quirks, but whenever he was drunk, his lovers didn't need to. It hadn't been nearly so long since he'd had a one-night stand, but Arthur was feeling a little dry and could stand to be wetter. And on all fours.

And God would be damned if his nostalgia-ridden heart was going to get a word in edgewise.

Arthur picked a good one, too. He was all parts strapping and handsome, and young to boot. He said he was about twenty-three, but Arthur doubted that. Twenty-one was more like it, but perhaps he lied because he felt embarrassed about how dominant he was sexually over an older man.

Arthur felt himself getting embarrassed. He really wasn't that old! He was only twenty-four, but still, of course, being bottom to a college student… Well anyway, this man's name was Leon, which was a very sexy name by the way, and he was going to plow him six ways to Sunday.

Intent on spoiling himself (or, perhaps, nursing his sad, jealous heart), Arthur had gotten a room at the Four Seasons. It was only one night after all. And his date thoroughly appreciated Arthur's taste in accommodations, commenting many times on how he scored big and couldn't wait to tell his friends. Even in his drunken stupor, Arthur's usual prideful ways were in complete tact.

He wasn't too prideful, though, to scream at the top of his lungs. The way this guy was ramming himself into Arthur and ramming Arthur into the plush sheets was skillful to say the least. He had picked a wonderful sex partner, that much was evident.

Arthur was normally wonderful at catching himself even when he was drunk. He had never screamed a name that wasn't his partner's, usually able to divert it with "baby" or "angel" or "darling". The name that usually flickered across his mind never darted across his tongue and if it did he always made sure to bite it.

But Arthur was especially shameless tonight.

God forbid he be dry for more than a week, between his lips and his legs.

"Aaaaalfre-e-d," He moaned loudly to the wall, and slapped his hand across his mouth attempting to muffle himself but the deed was done. Leon didn't stop, and Arthur hoped to god he didn't hear him, clinging to the bed futilely. Even in sexual ecstasy, he was prideful.

In the end, Arthur did orgasm, eventually. His partner had sex down to a practice and served him well. In the end, the condom ended up dirty and used, like Arthur felt in the pit of his stomach and the crevices of his heart, but he was momentarily satiated. That was all he had asked.

 _Bzzzzt._

Arthur awoke to his phone vibrating off of the bedside table. Sitting up to retrieve it sent a gripping wave of pain through his head and elicited a groan from the Englishman.

Parts of the night were hard to recollect, fuzzy and black from the booze. How much exactly did Arthur have to drink?

To his left was a snoring attractive man. Suddenly, he was able to recall one thing.

Screaming Alfred's name.

Arthur shot up from the bed. His face red and palms sweating, he rushed to find his alcohol stained clothes.

"Curses!" He shouted at himself as he wormed his pants back onto his body. "Fuck! Leave it to me to ruin a decent shag with my daydreams!" He clumsily buttoned his shirt.

He had resolved to leave the room key for the boy to enjoy to himself for the next three hours the room was rented out to Arthur Kirkland. It was the least he could do after…

Arthur bit his lip.

Argh! It was all so infuriating! Alfred and Arthur had never been a thing! They were never a couple, they were never together! Nothing ever happened between them and all of those moments Arthur thought they shared in tenderness, all of those lovingly exchanged glances were just figments of his imagination! Why did God curse him with such a wild imagination!

As if you could see the contents of someone's heart through their eyes alone!

Ha!

Ha ha.

If he thought Alfred ever cared for him, he was a fool. Arthur was just… a path, he supposed. A stone on the path to finding Alfred's true sexuality. That was his first boy, right?

"Who cares!" Arthur yelled at himself. "Alfred is no one to me now," he whispered softly.

His phone buzzed again on the floor.

The clock read 9:10 a.m.

9:10 a.m. on Saturday, February 28th.

That was the moment Alfred and Arthur ended their six year silence.

Arthur couldn't believe it. This had to be a joke. A prank, a trap.

He still had Alfred's number, but he was sure it had to have changed after all those years.

Apparently not.

9:02 a.m.

 _-Yo, Arthur, I know ur in the room next to mine. U should come over- I'm 3.209._

 _-Al_

His grammar was atrocious as it always was. Arthur couldn't help but chuckle, but smile longingly at his phone screen. It was his text, meant for him from Alfred.

Should he go?

No, it was surely a trick. Some plot to humiliate him or to take advantage of him on the ruse that Alfred would be there waiting for him.

But no one knew about his devotion to Alfred. Not a soul, not even Alfred himself.

Speaking of knowing things, how could Alfred possibly have known Arthur was in the room next door? Unless… he recognised his voice from last night…

But how could he have heard Arthur through the wall? This was a five-star hotel! There was no way Alfred could have heard or felt a thing unless Arthur had been being obscenely loud, but…

Arthur shook his head. Even that drunk, he couldn't have been that loud, right?

Oh, this was a right mess. In the end, he just had to follow his stupid heart, didn't he?

And Arthur's stupid heart wanted Alfred.

3.209.

Arthur clutched his phone.

"I should go back."

He knocked gently.

"I should go home."

9:55 a.m.

The door opened.

"Arthur Kirkland…?"

Arthur looked up.

"A-Alfred Jones…"

If ever Arthur had to describe the Perfect Man, physically, it would be one with sun-kissed skin and blonde hair. Blue eyes like the sky, light like the sun, he would say. As if Apollo and Adonis had made love and birthed him in all of his heavenly glory.

And standing in front of him, the lovechild of Apollo and Adonis looked absolutely terrible.

That wasn't fair to Alfred. He was as gorgeous as he ever was with his beautiful blue eyes. His muscles were more defined than ever, lines defining all of the right places. His jawline was better than Arthur remembered, too- oh, it was all better than Arthur remembered.

Alfred really should have been a male model.

"Sorry for not wearing a shirt- jesus, you reek of alcohol," Alfred teased, smirking at still-staring Arthur.

"Excuse you," Arthur pointed at Alfred's chest, "But last I checked, I didn't come over to be scrutinised for how I spent my evening."

Alfred bit his lip at the contact.

'Oh god, it's glorious, do it more, maybe stretch your muscles a bit and let me-' Arthur caught himself, blushing. Of course instead of the feelings fizzling out by meeting Alfred again they only caught new fire. And now sex was a component.

"Oh, yeah?" Alfred muttered huskily. He backed into his room a little, crossing his arms. "'Cause that's what I asked you over here for."

Now, Arthur was at a loss. He cocked his head. "What?"

"Arthur come on," Alfred sighed, pointing to the deep bags under his eyes. "I look like shit, don't pretend you didn't notice."

Well, Arthur certainly had noticed, but then he didn't care when Alfred was so handsome it barely detracted from his overall appearance.

"Did you not sleep well last night?" Arthur asked, voice laden with concern.

Alfred gazed at him in surprise.

Arthur was afraid to ask. "Did that have something to do with me?"

He winced when Alfred moved to respond.

Hesitantly, Alfred touched Arthur's cheek.

A heat wave coursed through Arthur's body! His nerves were wracked with fear and confusion and...

And happiness!

"Yes," he hummed tenderly, and there and then Alfred looked at Arthur with that heavenly face in the way he had reserved for only Arthur. "I heard you call my name last night and I just…"

Alfred moved closer to Arthur into intimate space between the door and the hallway. He encircled him almost, his forehead pressed to Arthur's from the side.

Oh this was a miracle, a terrible awful miracle of horrible circumstance. Arthur hated the Arthur who came here last night and owed the Arthur who came here last night, big time.

He seemed to want to touch Arthur's back but was afraid to. His hand hovered over the sensitive area. Alfred bit his lip.

Arthur leaned into the touch.

Arthur was a prideful man in almost every situation. Fear and nervousness had held him back from making a fool of himself to the only man he thought he might ever love and he had resolved himself.

Arthur just didn't care any more.

Or perhaps it was in that moment that Arthur found he cared more about Alfred than he did about protecting his heart.

"You just what, love?"

Arthur leaned up to Alfred's lips and whispered those words again, sweet cyanide to Alfred's composure.

Alfred pulled Arthur into his hotel room and closed the door.

"Arthur Kirkland…" Alfred tightened his hold around Arthur's waist. He held Arthur's hand. He stared at Arthur seriously, lovingly, hopefully.

"Would you… if you don't have anything else planned… is that your boyfriend in the room next door?" Alfred sheepishly blurted.

Arthur giggled at Alfred's red face.

"No, Alfred, that was just… a guy I met last night," Arthur confessed, regretting the words as he spoke them. What if Alfred now thought he was loose? In regards to romance, Arthur had always been traditional. Sex…

"Oh," Alfred breathed in relief. He took a long blink.

"S-so, you're free?"

Arthur grinned devilishly. "What did you have in mind?"

Alfred was just like the puppy Arthur remembered him being, his tail wagging and his ears perking up from excitement. Overexcited dogs also tend to jump on people, and Alfred was no exception.

He enveloped Arthur in seconds, but upon realising he was suffocating, quickly released him. Nonetheless he bounced with energy.

"Anything, anything you want, here," Alfred showed Arthur to a seat.

Chuckling, Arthur obliged.

"Do you want anything to drink? Or eat? I can basically get whatever I want," Alfred boasted, waiting patiently for Arthur to approve.

"Oh, just tea is fine, if you can make it," Arthur teased, and Alfred narrowed his eyes at the challenge.

"No prob, babe," he smirked, "How bad could I fuck it up? As I remember, one of us can cook and it isn't you."

Arthur gaped at the remark, but he took immense satisfaction in watching Alfred stumble around with something as simple as boiling water for tea and steep it all wrong. He poured in too much sugar and forgot to add milk at all. But the sheepish grin and the trembling mug when he gave it to Arthur with a hopeful "Here" was far too much for him to handle.

"It's perfect," Arthur mumbled, looking up at Alfred with the sort of smiling, flickering, glittering expression that only said one thing.

Alfred exhaled relievedly. "Thank God, I was so scared I fucked it up."

"You were the one spouting all of that 'I am the only one of us who can cook' shit, now weren't you?" Arthur laughed, the tea travelling halfway to his nose.

"W-well," Alfred gulped, "I dunno, I was just so nervous 'cause…"

He gazed at a still giggling Arthur, his expression softening into a gentle smile.

"'Cause I haven't seen you in so long and I was so scared that you didn't like me anymore..." He scratched the back of his neck.

"I mean, we stopped talking and I just," he chuckled nervously, "It seemed like you didn't want me around anymore, ha ha…"

Arthur's neck snapped up at Alfred in shock. He abhorred the thought that he pushed Alfred away! How could he do that? He would never do that!

But he had done that. Even unintentionally, Alfred thought…

"Alfred, I…" Arthur swallowed. He had to say it. Arthur was a man, damn it, and so was Alfred. He deserved the truth.

Even if it was near impossible to say.

"I will like you until the day you die. Nothing you have ever done or could do could change the way I feel about you."

Alfred looked at Arthur desperately, hopefully, wanting so badly for what was coming out of Arthur's mouth to mean what he thought it meant. He wanted it to be true.

In love there is no room for pride, really. Trusting someone to catch you if you throw yourself over a cliff is hard to do. But Arthur felt as if he had no other choice. This was his cliff. Alfred was who he chose. He had chosen him for a long time. Now, he trusted Alfred to catch him.

"I love you, Alfred F. Jones."

In that moment, Alfred thought he had heard heaven itself open the gates and sing. Or maybe that loud happy choir was just his beating heart and the creaking gate was just his smile stretching out to his ears.

"I knew it!" Alfred shouted. He punched the air! He jumped and spun around! Oh fuck, his happiness could hardly be contained.

He plucked Arthur right out of his chair, not caring that Arthur worried about his tea, not caring that Arthur protested loudly,

In newfound strength, he lifted Arthur above his head.

"I knew it," he whispered, their foreheads touching.

"I knew it!" He shouted again, spinning Arthur around and falling with him onto the bed. He kissed Arthur's face.

"W-wait, Alfred, ah," Arthur grasped fruitlessly at Alfred's shoulders.

"Oh Arthur," Alfred whispered onto his skin between kisses, "I never thought I was good enough for you, you were so smart and cool, I always wondered what I did wrong when we stopped talking, baby, but I knew it when I looked at you, oh Arthur, I love you and I know no one can tell from that little smile on your face or that twinkle in your eye or that deep breath you take when you're swooning baby, but Arthur, I knew it, oh honey, I love you."

"And now I'm gonna make love to you, you drunk," Alfred hummed throatily, and Arthur found himself melting into the sheets.

Maybe they were quick to say I love you. Maybe they didn't really love each other yet.

But they sure were going to.

The feeling was already deeper than either knew.

Alfred unbuttoned his pants so quickly. Arthur merely blinked and Alfred's pajama pants had slipped past his knees, and his own pants were open and coming off.  
"A-Alfred!" Arthur gasped, moving to stop Alfred's hand from teasing the band of his underwear. Alfred only chuckled and moved to kiss Arthur's neck.

Alfred could make love to Arthur's neck, it seemed, inhaling then licking in long lazy strokes. Arthur stiffened at the contact. Alfred massaged his leg and hushed him, painfully aware of Arthur's pulsing cock.

Oh lord, how had this happened? This was a beautiful mistake, such a wonderful fuck-up, how on Earth had Arthur managed to make this happen? To let this happen? He was already losing control.

Alfred grazed his teeth along Arthur's neck and bit gently. His hands slid down atop the fabric of Arthur's underwear and teased his hardening cock. Arthur bit his lip in a failed attempt to suppress a thrilled moan. Alfred grinned.

"Oh, you like that?" he growled into the crook of Arthur's neck.  
"Oh God," Arthur breathed and slapped his hand across his mouth. Oh no, not yet, not yet!

Alfred grinned wildly. He slipped his hands into the lip of Arthur's underwear and moved to kiss him. Arthur fastened his hand in place.  
His eyes pleaded, but Alfred wasn't forgiving enough. He kissed Arthur's hand gently, looking through his lashes.  
Arthur muffled his whimper, and Alfred left a lingering kiss on Arthur's jaw. He was so close Arthur could hear his breathing staggering. His pulse quickening. His hand fell from his mouth and onto Alfred's cheek.

Excitedly, Alfred looked up at Arthur. Oh, it was all he desired to see- Arthur blushing and reaching for him, biting his lip- but he found that it only made him want more. Arthur panting. Drooling. Arthur humming, moaning, screaming Alfred's name. Crying "harder". Begging for more.  
Alfred pulled Arthur's hips closer. Their lips met.

Arthur wrapped his arms around Alfred as he moved his lips in tune with his. Alfred inhaled deeply, one arm around Arthur's waist pulling him up into the kiss, arching his back. He couldn't help himself: he slid his hand into Arthur's underwear and squeezed his ass.

Arthur gasped in surprise and groaned in protest but Alfred just slid his hand under Arthur's thigh and pulled his pants right off. Arthur broke the kiss.

"Ah, Alfred!" He said instead of stop with a trembling lip. Alfred only moaned in response, happy to hear his name coming from Arthur's mouth.  
Alfred opened his eyes. Staring at Arthur, he was burning with lust. Slowly, he brought each of his fingers around Arthur's thigh. Even more slowly, he rubbed his hand against Arthur's inner thigh, dangerously close, so deliciously close to Arthur's dick. He breathed Arthur's name, asking for permission.

'Oh, Alfred, touch me,' were the only coherent words in Arthur's fuzzy thoughts. If he said them out loud, he couldn't hear himself over his own heartbeat.

Smiling gently, Alfred kissed Arthur. He moved his palm over the tip of Arthur's cock and rubbed. Arthur threw his head back and moaned. That's it, that's what Alfred wanted! He grinned and started pumping Arthur's cock.

Oh, it was glorious, so cute. Arthur was shaking and moaning like he'd never been touched before. Just squirming, red, under Alfred's touch.  
Alfred could fly.

"Fuck, Arthur, you're making me so hard," Alfred moaned.

Sweet jesus, how was Arthur expected to survive that? He had to stop himself from drooling, stifled whimpers escaping as he clutched onto Alfred. Oh lord, he hadn't ben so out of control during sex since he could remember. He was practically losing it.

"Alfreeeed," He found himself whining, pleading for more.  
"Yeah, that's what I like!" Alfred huffed, and he moved his hand from Arthur's cock. Alfred pulled his entire body away, in fact.  
That's not what Arthur liked. He bucked his hips up, only to be met with Alfred pushing him back to the bed one handedly. He gritted his teeth, looking as uncomfortable as he could before grunting at Alfred hoping that would move him to continue. Alfred just laughed, gazing down at Arthur with clear want.

"You're fiesty, huh," Alfred hummed, lifting Arthur's legs onto his shoulders. Arthur's eyes widened. Oh no, not yet! He hadn't even been prepared! Was Alfred going to raw dog hi-

Arthur cried out. Alfred's tongue lapped hungrily at his cock.

"This isn't fair!" Arthur shouted over his and Alfred's moaning, "Me too, I want..." His voice hitched in his throat as Alfred deep-throated him hungrily.  
"Alfred pleeaaa-se," he found himself able to whimper as his partner came up for air. Alfred blinked in momentary surprise.

"Oh, Arthur," he mouthed against his leg. He grinned as he moved to tower above Arthur again, removing his own underwear.  
"Are you sure?" he laughed, licking his lips. Oh, Arthur was ready. He was so ready. He narrowed his eyes, mentally chanting for Alfred to give it to him.

"I gotta warn you," he growled, "I'm extremely hard."  
It was Arthur's turn to grin wickedly. "You think this is the first time I've had a hard cock in my face, Jones?" he teased and pulled Alfred up to his mouth.  
"I want it, I can take it all."

Alfred massaged Arthur's hair as they switched positions, Arthur climbing on top of Alfred and grinding himself onto Alfred's ever-hardening cock.

"Whoa!" Alfred gasped, not expecting Arthur to be so... bold about his desire. The truth was that once Arthur was allowed to do as he pleased, he couldn't contain himself anymore. He wanted all of Alfred, he wanted it all at once, and he slid down, rubbing Alfred's cock through his legs and up against his chest and against his face.  
What the fuck was happening! Alfred was going crazy. Now Arthur was massaging his balls! Fuck, Arthur was more of a freak than Alfred thought!

Then, Arthur took Alfred's entire cock in his mouth. Instantly, Arthur was devouring Alfred, licking as he sucked, stroking as he salivated all over Alfred. He even grabbed Alfred's hip, moaning as he pumped his head faster. When Arthur came up for air leaving Alfred's wet dick to dry, Alfred couldn't help but moan in disappointment. Arthur bit his lip in ecstasy and looked up at a flustered Alfred as he grazed his fingers over Alfred's twitching cock. He licked the head seductively.

"Shit!" Alfred yelped and Arthur started teasing more. He ran his tongue down the underside of Alfred's penis. Alfred grunted happily. Arthur's tongue then slid onto Alfred's balls and he took them slowly into his mouth. He sucked gently and Alfred did everything in his power not to shove Arthur's face into his cock. He moaned as he swallowed and Alfred began to sweat profusely.

This was insane.

Arthur began kissing Alfred's dick sweetly, lapping at it a little as he moved onto his knees. Ass in the air, he sucked again as he moved to touch himself. But Alfred was already drooling all over his fingers and batted Arthur's hand away from his ass. Looking up, Arthur broke contact with Alfred's cock.

Alfred pushed his finger into Arthur's hole. Arthur's knees buckled. Quickly, Alfred pulled Arthur's face up to his chest as Arthur fell into the touch. He moved his hips with Alfred's quickening fingers.

"Oh Alfred, fuck me," he moaned.

Alfred bit his lip, groaning. He was ready to smash Arthur into the headboard with all of his strength. Did Arthur really have to beg before he was prepared? He already hated waiting!

"Alfre-e-ed!" Arthur whined, bucking his hips into Alfred's fingers. He was giving the green light. Alfred stretched his ass impatiently. Arthur was just getting rowdier.

This would do. Alfred's cock was wet with sweat and precum anyway after that masterful dick sucking. Lifting himself, he grabbed Arthur's ass and pushed him into the sheets. Arthur clawed at the bed, rubbing his ass into Alfred's touch. He was beyond ready.

Alfred breathed deeply. Arthur trembled and beckoned Alfred closer. He felt the head of Alfred's dick, wet and hard, brush against his entrance and he grabbed the nearest pillow. He whimpered. Alfred pushed in and Arthur bit his pillow, wailing. It was a beautiful sound.

And a magnificent feeling. Alfred was rock hard and his big thick cock stretched Arthur in a strange mixture of pain and pleasure. He screamed for more, harder, faster, as Alfred slammed him into the bed. Alfred was bent over him intensely, slapping against him, growling and moaning hungrily. His arm was so tight around Arthur's hips that it didn't matter that Arthur could barely hold himself up. Oh, it was pleasure. His strokes were deep and fast as he filled Arthur. He had no trouble finding the spot, Arthur's loud "AHHHNN" a dead giveaway and he thrusted right into it until Arthur was a drooling mess.  
It was the best sex he had ever had.

"Oh fuck, Alfred, cum inside," he screamed into his pillow and Alfred fucked him so hard Arthur slid into the headboard.

"I'll fill you bursting and then I'll spray it all over you," Alfred growled, rubbing Arthur's nipple. Arthur's toes curled. "You'll never want another cock again when I'm through."

And he delivered.

All Arthur could see behind his blurring vision was Alfred. He swiveled around to grab him as Alfred smashed into Arthur. Alfred obliged, lifting Arthur's legs and thrusting faster, the headboard banging against the wall. He lifted Arthur's hips and fucked him midair as Arthur trembled, ready to cum.

He was drooling when Alfred bent down and moaned huskily, "You want it?"

Arthur could only nod. Alfred's cock went deeper. "Yeah?" His voice was deep and dark and Arthur started leaking.

"Yes!" Arthur cried and Alfred thrust once more, harder and deeper. Arthur came instantly and screamed Alfred's name as Alfred, smirking with delicious satisfaction, filled him like he promised.

"Do you remember, Arthur, at our graduation, when I told you I would come back for you?" Alfred mused loudly, running his fingers through Arthur's hair.

"What?" Arthur raised his head from Alfred's chest.

"I said 'Congratulations, Arthur. I'm coming back for you,'" Alfred murmured, moving his hand to Arthur's naked back. Alfred was looking up at the ceiling in thought. "I meant after I got rich. After I got rich and attractive and I was good at sex. After I could do whatever you asked for, I was coming back to win your heart."

He smiled, looking into Arthur's eyes.

"Jokes on you then, love," Arthur mumbled, walking his fingers up Alfred's bare chest.

With a wide loving smile, soft lips touched Alfred's cheek.

"I've loved you since the beginning."

 _a/n: i've obviously never stayed at a four seasons so i have no idea if u can hear ppl having LOUD sex thru the walls. If that's inaccurate, then i will change it to be some indiscriminate fictional hotel where u can. ;) thanks for reading! -morethanjust-usuk / sam_


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